Look Who's Calling
by Corlee
Summary: CS "Pillow Talk" AU: In 1960's New York, Emma Swan & Killian Jones, share a party line. They don't know each other but Emma despises Killian since he tends to hog the line with his various girlfriends whenever she needs to make a call. When Killian meets Emma by chance in a jazz club, he poses as a naive tourist from Louisiana in order to seduce her. Secrets build while sparks fly.
1. Chapter 1

Most days, she still didn't believe it.

While Minnesota was relaxing and quaint, she had always known she wanted to end up in the big city. Emma pulled back the blinds to her newly furnished Manhattan apartment and watched the sun come up over the horizon. Fragments of lights scattered among the towers of steel, blinking back at her. The streets below looked like veins, the blood of New York was pumping in full swing. Her fingers tightened around the mug of hot cocoa as she brought it to her lips. The warm blend of chocolate and cinnamon soothed her stomach, easing her nerves. Her first day on the job was sure to be an eventful one. When her college friend, Elsa, sold her on an opportunity to be the official photographer for her family's company, she hesitated for about two seconds before packing her suitcase and hopping on a bus. An advance that made her eyes almost leave her head had granted her an amazing apartment and a starting wardrobe to match. Now, she just had to let her work back it up.

Emma downed the last bit of cocoa and stepped down into the shag carpet where her new Stanley Philipson heels were waiting for her. She smiled, slipping them on and enjoying how they felt already. She glanced at her clock, calculating the time it would take to get across to Madison Avenue in the throes of traffic. She picked up the phone to call a cab when a voice on the other end startled her.

Her smile faded as she quickly realized the owner.

Her first encounter with Killian Jones was rather startling to say the least. She had picked up the phone to call her parents when a sultry baritone voice erupted through the receiver like sweet smoke.

 _You are here, so am I_

 _Maybe millions of people go by_

 _But they all disappear from view..._

Emma thought about putting the receiver down, but found it difficult to do so. A sliver of a smile erupted in the corner of her lips but quickly disappeared when the voice that followed was of the female variety.

"Oh, Killian, that was so lovely," the woman said in between sighs. Emma's short admiration abruptly ended, but she still hadn't put the receiver down.

"Not as lovely as you, darling," the baritone replied, a subtle, Irish accent filling in the blank space. Emma rolled her eyes, not believing such a naive city woman could fall for it. The woman giggled on the other end. "So, what do you say, love? This gig just _screams_ your name." He emphasized 'screams' slowly, the timbre in his voice lowering, the imagery he was conveying all too vivid.

"Of course, Mr. Jones. Perhaps when you're done watching my audition, you could make me-"

"Excuse me," Emma interrupted.

"Who is that?!" the woman replied.

Emma heard Killian sigh. "Must be the other end of my party line, Dana. She's new."

"Mr. Jones, was it? I apologize for disrupting but I need to make an urgent call. I would appreciate it if you could please allow me to do so."

"Dana, love, I'll see you tomorrow, then?" he halfway ignored her.

"See you at nine, Killian. Oh, and thank you for last night."

Emma grimaced, picturing Killian-even though she had never seen his face before-smirking at her.

Emma heard a click but there wasn't even enough time for awkward silence before Killian's voice, patience clearly waning, came through. "Madam, I would appreciate if you would not eavesdrop on my personal conversations."

This infuriated Emma. All admiration was completely out the window. "Mr. Jones, I should hope that you understand that I wasn't intending to eavesdrop here. But I actually do have a business call to make and I can bet it's much more important than serenading past conquests. I understand, as a businessman I presume, that you will have urgent matters that will take precedence in the near future? All I'm asking is that we establish a sense of common priority here. I would do the same for you."

"What's your name?"

Emma seemed taken aback. "Emma. Emma Swan."

"Ms. Swan, if you would like to take the time out of your clear schedule to compose a time table, I'd be happy to consider it. Meanwhile, I'd appreciate it if you kept your presumptions to yourself." _Click_.

Emma's jaw hung open, gaping at the phone as if the plastic itself had insulted her. She set the receiver down, hoping that New York City could make a far better impression of its men than that.

Recollecting it now, a couple of weeks, an ignored schedule and numerous, time-consuming phone calls later, Emma scoffed at her naivete. They had continued to squabble over the past days, and she resolved to rightly give him a suckerpunch should she ever meet him in person.

Through the various snippets of chatter, she had found out that he was in fact a businessman, on Madison Avenue as well. He worked for a popular ad firm-Charming & Hood-as a casting agent for many of their clients' product commercials, which explained the numerous models that he "worked on" getting. Oh, and did he work. He schmoozed like no other-compliments, sending flowers, and endless serenades, mostly all the same song and adding their names to the end of the verse as if he wrote it personally, just for them. _The Flamingos_ would be ashamed. He was being coaxed for another rendition by his current flame of the week, but Emma knew now that she shouldn't bother waiting until it was all done. She'd be stuck at home forever if that were the case. "Mr. Jones," she started.

A groan leaked from him as the woman reacted with question. He reassured her it was his silly party line neighbor who didn't know her place. "What do you want, Ms. Swan?"

"Unless you can call me a cab, Mr. Jones, I'd appreciate if you could let me have the line."

"Why don't you wait by the curb like the rest of New York?"

"Why don't you behave like a gentleman and-" _Click_.

Killian sighed. "Are you happy? I could have just lost a great talent!"

Emma scoffed. " _Talent?_ What exactly is her skill set, Mr. Jones? Filing her nails and knowing the appropriate time to leave your apartment in time for her audition?"

"Now, you don't see me poking into your affairs! That is, if you had any."

"And who's to say that I don't?!"

"An uptight woman living alone in the big city? Well, you certainly haven't found a means to decompress just yet."

"Excuse me?!"

"Have a great morning, Ms. Swan." _Click._

Emma's eyes widened as she slammed the receiver down, almost forgetting to make her own call. She selected the numbers through the rotary dial and took deep breaths to not project her anger onto the cab operator. She requested her car and sat down on her balcony lounge chair, breathing in and out. The sun was creeping over the buildings now, the orange star creating waves of pink and robin's egg blue across the skyline. The honking of cars increased, brushing away the lingering notes of Killian Jones' voice from her mind. What women saw in him, she would never know, but she would not let him ruin her first day as a working Manhattanite. This town was hers for the taking and she didn't care about doing it alone.

-/-

Killian was fully dressed in his gray, Ralph Lauren suit by the time he had slammed the phone down. He straightened his tie and exhaled, trying not to think about Emma Swan. The woman was infuriating and he was fully expecting a formal complaint to be filed with the phone company by the end of the day. He combed his hair back, pushing the stubborn front strands back with impatient fervor. His boss wouldn't be too happy to hear if he lost the face of their client's new product campaign. He made a note to suggest a recovery move of lunch and a small pay raise.

He grabbed his hat and briefcase on his way out the door and caught a cab without much competition. When he walked into his office (he ignored the surprised look on his secretary's face for getting there _early_ ) and was surprised to see his boss, Robin, laying on his couch. Killian dropped the briefcase on his desk a little too loudly.

"Christ, what time is it?" he muttered, grimacing when Killian opened the blinds.

"Time for you to get your own couch to sleep on."

"She left me again."

Killian rolled his eyes, grabbing the pot of coffee and pouring himself a large cup. "Should I even bother to-no. No, I don't want to know."

He poured a second cup for his struggling boss and gestured for him to get it. Robin groaned loudly, the spitting image of a ten year old being told to do something he didn't want to do. He pushed a hand through his hair and pushed himself off the couch.

Killian cocked his eyebrow as he took a sip from the mug. "Your denial is showing."

At this, Robin pointed at him sternly, or at least, trying to be stern. The leftover bourbon in his system and disheveled hair just made him look like he was about to topple over. "I didn't do anything this time, I swear. I didn't do _much_."

"Mmmhmm. Listen, while you're getting yourself together, I should probably tell you that Gretchen may or may not show up today."

Robin stood up straight and gave that statement a sober glare. Killian turned away, taking a seat at his desk. "What did you do?"

"Oh no, don't pin this one on me. It was all that confounded party line neighbor of mine."

"Well, try and get Gretchen on the line and smooth talk her until we can clean that up. By the way, we have a dinner meeting tonight with Vespa. The Tavern at 7:00PM. Birdland after if it goes well."

Killian smiled. He could already hear the notes swelling in the air, the movement of muscles and bones to the tune of the smoky jazz. "Birdland, regardless."

-/-

Emma couldn't help but still be a little perturbed on the cab ride over to _Arendelle, Inc._ but all ill feeling went out the window the moment she stepped into the doors and rode the elevator up to her office. Elsa greeted her with a warm hug and escorted her to Emma's new office-a shining, mod place with white furniture, gold accents and a diluted, royal blue accent wall. A large window took up most of the wall behind her desk, bookshelves bordering either side. A watercolor skyline of New York hung on the opposite wall and-to Emma's surprise-a large print of one of her own photographs parallel to it. It was one of the last that she had taken in college: a shot of a woman from behind facing a crossroads. The result was a rather poetic piece, when in actuality, Emma seized a moment when her friend Ruby had gotten them lost. Nevertheless, it was a bit of home.

"It's gorgeous, Elsa. You are absolutely spoiling me!" She sat her purse on the desk next to a welcome bouquet of buttercup yellow flowers.

"Well, we're so happy that you're here and I, for one, am thrilled to have an old friend in the city. Once you get settled, I'll give you the grand tour and show you the studio. We have a meeting at 10:00 today to go over the weekly shoots and you have your first shoot this afternoon." She paused to give Emma another hug. Emma, not a very huggy person, obliged, not realizing until then how much she had missed her companion. As much as this city was grand and bright, it did strike a bit of loneliness into her pushed the thought away, reminding herself that the feeling was temporary and this office, this job, this city...this was what she was meant for right now. Elsa released her, a smile on her face that lit up the entire room. "Oh! And celebratory night for your first day-Birdland Jazz Club at 8:00PM."


	2. Chapter 2: Sway

_When we dance, you have a way with me  
Stay with me, sway with me_

Killian had never raced out of a business meeting faster. Robin, barely on his heels, jumped into the cab as Killian was already giving the destination orders.

"Christ, man. What's your hurry?" he huffed, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it, exhaling a deep breath of smoke. "I thought that went well."

Killian scoffed. "It was bloody awful, how could you possibly think otherwise?"

"Honestly, Jones, I think we have 'em."

"Your blind, my friend."

" _Arendelle, Inc_. would be crazy to go with anyone else to merge. Our art department certainly needs an upgrade, especially since we just landed Mills Furs."

Killian snapped his gaze over to him, his focus loosening from the music already calling. "You didn't tell me we landed Mills Furs, not officially."

Robin gave a sad smile, exhaling another puff of smoke and fidgeting with the cigarette with his fingers. He was deep in thought, the corners of his eyes tinged with a look of regret. "Just found out today. We have a trial photoshoot on Friday. If all goes well, they'll sign the paperwork. If we get Arendelle on board for the merge, it's in the bag."

Killian slapped Robin's knee playfully. "Atta boy, that is some good news. You deserve a drink."

"Or a bottle."

-/-

Emma didn't think she had ever smiled this much. Five minutes in the jazz club and she was already feeling like she was in another world. Strings of lights draped from one end of the room to the other, a canopy of stars. There was a quartet up on the stage and plenty of dancers in the middle of the room, swinging and sashaying in their evening wear. Emma, in a knee length, merlot-colored dress that Elsa whistled at (and caused her to blush), excitedly found a booth and sat down. Elsa had brought along her sister, Anna, her brother-in-law, Kristoff and her current beau, William ("You can call me, Will. She likes William," he teased lovingly at Elsa, causing her to blush). They all worked for _Arendelle, Inc_., spending their days building and creating. Emma could certainly get used to hanging around other artistic souls. Her nerves throughout the day had eased, especially after the _Arendelle_ owners-Elsa and Anna's aunt and uncle-had given her a big hug once she had introduced herself ("Sorry, they're just like that," Elsa apologized. Emma didn't care, it felt like home). Her day was spent giving her life story repeatedly-but graciously-and laughing at the antics that Will and Kristoff pulled getting children to smile for her first photoshoot. She missed Minnesota, but this certainly wasn't a bad trade.

* * *

They had ordered drinks and she was not even 2 sips in before a gentleman-Emma considered this term loosely-sat down next to her, the smell of alcohol practically drowning out the stale smell of bad cologne and desperation.

"Well, aren't you a sight….for sore something," he managed to mumble, the consonants all mashed together as they left his mouth. Anna giggled, covering her lips with her palm. Kristoff and Will, looking at each other, waiting for the first to crack, pursed their lips and stared. "How about we dance?"

Emma gave him a nervous smile as an uptempo number began to fill the place. Excited shouts from the crowd wove through the room. "Are you going to bother telling me your name first?"

"It's...Neal. Neal...oh...what is it? Just call me Neal."

"Well, Neal No-Last-Name, I'm sorry but I'm here with my friends and-"

He smiled, shaking his head. "Now, now, are _you_ going to tell me your name?" he asked, his voice mocking.

"Emma. Emma Swan."

-/-

Killian's eyes popped open as the sound of her voice interrupted his musical reverie. Good god, don't turn around, he told himself. He looked over at Robin and the two girls who had managed to sneak into their booth without him realizing. An eager brunette had cozied up next to him, her manicured red nails not-so-subtly grazing his hand as she reached for her martini glass.

 _It couldn't be, could it?_

He slightly turned his head, the sweat starting to accumulate in his dress shirt collar. He only saw the curve of her cream-colored shoulder, the bold, dark red color of her dress strap and a pinned bob of blonde hair.

"Come on, doll. Let's get on the floor, you are too pretty to be sitting down in the corner of a room."

"Neal, that's very nice of you but-"

"It would make my life, darling. You don't understand. Give this man...a night he'll never forget."

There was a round of snickering laughter. "Not looking too good for you, pal," a man at her table had shouted. This Neal person either didn't hear, didn't comprehend or just simply ignored him as he went down to his knees in front of their table. Killian's eyebrow shot up, complete disbelief in watching this fool.

"Oh for heaven's sake, _fine_ , one dance." Neal shot up like a dart, taking Emma's hand. Killian watched her walk towards him, Neal's hands quickly landing on her hips, Killian's eyes drifting down the open back of her dress and down to her curved bottom. Killian's tongue pressed the inside of his mouth, his fingertips practically holding his lips together.

 _Don't even think, you idiot. She'll know exactly who you are and you'd blow it in a heartbeat. Unless…no. You couldn't pull it off._

He continued to watch as Neal twirled her and spun himself in god awful ways. Killian downed the last of his rum from his cognac glass (unconventional, though he didn't care about the bartender's judgment), weighing his options. Once she had turned and he saw her in full, his mind was made up.

She was breathtaking. Her smile lit up her face like sunshine, so much so that he found himself smiling, more so from her than Neal's ludicrous dance moves. A couple of loose curls fell along the sides of her face, her cheekbones pink, tinged with embarrassment. She obligated Neal though, secretly counting down the seconds until the song's end. It was a soft mambo playing while the band rested, her hips trying to find the sync with Neal's. She certainly did try. A couple of times, she downright laughed, her full smile lighting up the room.

 _Maybe..._ he started telling himself.

"Jones! Earth to Jones!" Robin called. Killian waved his hand to him to shut him up, not even bothering to look back. The song had finally ended, the band picking up their instruments and starting to play a bluesy, New Orleans number. Emma tried to put Neal on his way but he continued with the same mambo beat, oblivious to the slower song change. Killian found himself standing up, buttoning his jacket and walking towards them, his brain and...downstairs brain clearly at odds. He tapped Neal on the shoulder, trying to break his fevered-now borderline tribal-dance. He felt Emma's eyes land on him, a faint smile coming from her lips.

"Excuse me, sir. I was wonderin' if I may just cut right in while you pour yourself another drink."

 _What is that? A New Orleans accent? Jones, you fool. Though, at least you picked up something down there other than a hangover and a box full of records._

Neal looked at him smugly, eyebrows furrowed, but Killian stretched out his arm, opening the path for him to go to the bar. To his surprise, Neal smiled, tipping his imaginary hat. Then to Emma, "I'll be right back, beautiful. You just stay right here."

Killian smiled, his outstretched arm closing the space and offering Emma's hand. "Thank you so much," Emma said, mid laugh. She let out a sigh. "That was...quite something." She placed her hand in his, her other hand going to his shoulder. Killian placed his other hand along the bottom of her back, briefly touching her skin, her body warm against his. They both inhaled together as he pulled her in, her mouth opening slightly as her eyes looked up at him through her long, black lashes. _How, how will you get away with this?_

"It certainly was, darlin'. What a shame to put a good mambo to waste."

"Yes, well, it was certainly a memorable one. But thank you, uh-"

"Oh," Killian stopped their dance to give a short bow. "James Hook, ma'am." He resumed their position again.

"Emma Swan. That's certainly not a New York accent, Mr. Hook."

"Please, call me James, and you guessed right. New Orleans, born and bred."

"Ahh, a Cajun fellow. Tell me, is the city as glorious as they say it is?"

"Even better, cheri," he replied, getting lost in the memory of walking down Bourbon Street in the middle of a drunken stupor. New Orleans was great, but he didn't necessarily want to go back there. "A lovely lady such as yourself would fit in like a queen."

He spun her, her body turning 360 degrees slowly, then returning back to him, her chest now grazing the cotton of his jacket. He cleared his throat, consciously telling himself to keep James Hook in check. _James Hook needs the accent and he needs to be a perfect gentleman...you imbecile._

-/-

She rested her chin on his collarbone, her eyes peeking out to her booth where her new friends where huddled, staring at her. Elsa was smiling, the boys were hollering, toasting their drinks to her, Anna was giving a big thumbs up. She giggled, causing his head to break away from hers slightly. _Don't mess this up, Emma._

"Would you like a drink?" he asked, his voice low and sweet, his eyes darting between hers and her lips. She saw a flash of skin flutter between his jaw bone and cheek, almost in time with the trumpet crooning.

"Yes, I-I would. Dirty. Martini! A dirty _martini_ , I mean," she fumbled, her eyes wide. _Way to go._

Killian laughed softly, his hand dropping but grazing the length of her arm on the way, causing her skin to raise. "Oui, mademoiselle. Try to evade any dance thieves in my absence."

"You bet," she whispered, smiling as he walked away, his head turning back to look at her. He brushed back a lock of hair that loosened in front of his face, his eyes still keeping her in focus just enough to not fall to the ground in front of him. He motioned for two drinks from the waiter. Emma heard another holler from her booth and felt fire in her cheeks. As Killian walked back over, she tried to keep the smile tucked away. He handed her a martini glass, another one in his hand. He clinked hers, keeping his knuckles in contact with hers. Their foreheads were in dangerous proximity, the warm of his breath (rum and wintergreen) closing in. Couples moved in sync around them, blurred from view, making the makeshift stars above them sway.

"To finding the right dance partner," he toasted.


End file.
